


Five Tattoos

by Mimiminaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - College/University, Basketball Star! Derek, Eventual Smut, Freshman! Stiles, M/M, Slow Build, still werewolves though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiminaj/pseuds/Mimiminaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't understand why everybody is obsessing over basketball lately. Yes, they made it to the elite eight. That doesn't mean Stiles should be subjected to talking about the team star, Derek Hale, all the time. It also means he might actually have to watch the game for a change. Not cool. </p>
<p>Then, one day as he's walking back from class, he runs into a gorgeous specimen shooting hoops by himself in an alleyway. It's an alleyway, so Stiles should really just continue on his way. But it's also Stiles, so self preservation was never really on the agenda. And besides, that five o'clock shadow with that jet black hair is literally impossible to walk away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about basketball. Nor do I know a lot about Berkley. So I'm going to claim any mistakes in terminology on artistic vision. Yeah. Also, major kudos to the people who know the song that inspired this (it's the title).

“No. I don’t get what all the fuss is about. Yes it’s exciting that we’re going to elite eight. Yes everybody loves basketball now. No I don’t want to go.”

“Stiles. Seriously, I’m not giving you a choice. The team is coming back today and we _are_ going to go cheer them on. There’s a rally and everything.”

“Scott, I don’t need to watch a shit-ton of guys being drooled over for walking off of a bus. They probably hate all of us anyway! They just woke up from naps, and then they get screamed at repeatedly. They’re probably like, would this crowd please just shut the fuck up because my head is pounding. See, I actually care about the team, Scott. Why can’t you be more understanding to our players? Why don’t you care?”

Scott stutters for a bit before stamping his foot. Stiles couldn’t help but to laugh; for the two of them being freshmen in college, Scott could still be quite childish sometimes.

“That didn’t make sense! You were just throwing words together!”

“It did Scott, it really did. Now go away. I’m about to kill this dragon.”

Stiles heard Scott grunt and saw him walk over to the TV. He put his index finger on the power button and held it there. Stiles immediately narrowed his eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll kill _you_.”

Stiles threw his hands up in the air and dropped the controller on the bed.

“I seriously hate you so much right now.”

* * *

 

The cheering and the screaming and the oohing and the aahing were exactly what Stiles had expected it to be; very, very annoying. He stood next to Scott and a few other people from his floor as the first of the buses pulled into the parking lot. The students had cleared a path, not unlike the red carpet, for the players to walk into the stadium.

When the doors slid open, it was the coach who first walked out. He was a tall and round dude, with thin grey hair covering his face. He was a legend. Stiles couldn’t help but compare him to his coach back home, and the difference was undeniably gigantic. The crowd exploded. Coach waved and smiled before turning around and pointing to the door, topped it off with a bow.

From there, players started pouring out. With each new person, a roar of the crowd commenced. Sometimes Stiles could make out the names being screamed; other times he had no idea.

“Okay, this is pretty exciting,” he whispered to Scott.

The cheering died down after what seemed like the last player excited. Except, it wasn’t a casual quietness, it was deliberate. Stiles looked toward the last player, already far enough away from the bus that nobody else should be coming out, before his ears picked up on something.

Der-ek. Der-ek. Der-ek.

It was a chant, and it was getting louder and louder. Before Stiles had a chance to look back toward the bus, the crowd exploded. People were throwing their hands up and in the general commotion of things Stiles could no longer see any member of the team.

“Who’s Derek?” He leaned over and whispered to Scott.

Scott, who quickly gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look, just shook his head.

“The team captain. Also one of the best players in the Golden Bear’s history. He’s the guy that scored the winning shot last week? _The shot to get us into the elite eight_.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, sorry Mr. grumpy pants. Should we go inside?”

“Inside? No. Come on. The stadium is full, probably has been since mid-day. We would have had to have been here at like noon. Seriously, did you go on Facebook at all this weekend?”

“First, lose the tude. Second, are we going to go eat now?”

“Well duh.”

* * *

 

The commotion about the game didn’t end on Sunday. Stiles had to endure a dinner full of his floor mates going on and on about the players (Scott was right, this Derek guy was a legend), hearing about it in the halls, and even in the study den while he was trying to study. All on Sunday.

On Monday, his English 252 class took a break just to discuss the different plays that happened during Saturday’s game, and their odds for winning come this Saturday. He tried to get Mark, one of his friends that lived down the hall, to play Halo, only to find that he was re-watching the past game. To top it off, he once again tried to go to the study den to finish a paper and was promptly subjected to an earful of talk about the game.

“I’m not even nervous,” Stiles overheard, biting his pencil and praying to anybody who would listen that he could find some concentration. “I mean, the odds are like 1 to 3.”

“I think it will boil down to whether or not they can get Lahey and Hale to behave. If they pull half the shit they did last game, they’ll be benched.”

“Hale isn’t the problem,” the voice got a bit angry. “He made one foul and that was it. The other guy was definitely asking for it. It’s Lahey who has the anger issues.”

“I heard he was abused by his dad.”

“I heard he killed his dad.”

“I know I heard that too. Somebody was saying he chopped him up and left him there. Nobody has been in the house since – “

“If nobody has been in the house,” Stiles spoke up, beginning to cram all his stuff back into his backpack. “Then I don’t think it’s possible for anybody to know anything. Which, ridiculous. That’s a stupid rumor that doesn’t need repeating. “

He walked out of the den without a backwards glance. He didn’t know those guys and probably would never see them again. He had tried studying in the den of the floor below him in the vein attempt to escape _the craze_ (which is what Stiles had nicknamed this whole phenomenon), which was clearly the wrong thinking. It was everywhere.

Tuesday was better. Stiles usually hated Tuesday’s, because he had two three hour labs that left him getting back to the dorm around 7 pm. But the labs also restricted all talk about baseball, so Tuesdays suddenly didn’t seem to bad. Practically beautiful, even.

* * *

He was on his walk back from lab when he felt his phone buzz.

_Oh my god avoid the dorms. Joe and Trav just threw up everywhere. –_ **Scott**

_What?!? It’s 6:26? AND a Tuesday? How are they that drunk?_

_Their frat had some event. Idk. But it reaks._

_Fine. I’ll b @ lib._

He sighed, changing courses and deciding to cut through some alleyways to get to the library faster. He was still on his phone when he felt something hard hit his feet.

It was a basketball. Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If anything had to hit his legs during the week of _the craze_ , it had to be a damn basketball.

Stiles looked around quickly, instantly zeroing in on the only other person around.

He almost dropped his phone. The guy he was looking at was gorgeous. He was a bit taller than Stiles, with jet black hair and a five o’clock shadow that did very naughty things to Stiles’ libido. The guy had on a tight black t-shirt, and his arm muscles were bulging.

“Umm. Yes, so, you probably want this basketball back. Umm, here!”

Stiles quickly leaned down, grabbed it, and walked it over to the guy. He felt very intimidated, because the guy was looking at him very apprehensively. Almost like Stiles was about to pounce on him. Huh. Weird.

Gorgeous-alleyway-guy took the basketball carefully from Stiles hands and gave him a nod. He didn’t say anything, so Stiles naturally felt like filling the silence.

The alleyway wasn’t extremely wide, but it wasn’t narrow either. It looked like it was probably between two apartment buildings, and left enough space for a car to drive through easily. Lodged a bit up on one of the walls was a worn down basketball hoop.

“Odd place to be shooting hoops, dude. Do you know there’s a court like a block and a half that way?”

Gorgeous-alleyway-guy-please-just-give-me-a-name raised a single eyebrow, now looking at Stiles as if he had just asked if he was in America.

“What? I’m just saying, if your experiencing the whole basketball craze like everybody else is, I thought it was my duty to tell you there is a full court just over there.”

Why? Why was Stiles even talking to this guy? Most people would just hand the ball back and continue on their way. One – this conversation is happening in an alleyway. Stiles has seen _Criminal Minds_. Two – gorgeous-alleyway-guy-please-just-give-me-a-name-also-if-i-could-hear-your-voice-that’d-be-great was not giving him any indication of wanting to participate in said conversation. And three – it was in an alleyway. At 7 pm. Sure there was some sunlight left, but the orange glow that tinted the sky preceded darkness.

Which do _not_ mix well with alleyways.

“Maybe I like the privacy.” The guy finally spoke up. And _oh_. Looks like his voice does things to Stiles’ libido too.

“Fair. And maybe you’re not very good. You know, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the guys. Which – wow, I’m rude. Totally not implying you’re a bad basketball player. I’m just saying, if you’re going to play in an alleyway by yourself, you either are ashamed of your abilities or you’re a serial killer.”

Sexy-voice-please-whisper-something-in-my-ear-I-need-it-now’s lips quirked into an almost smile. Stiles couldn’t help but to grin. He felt weirdly accomplished, especially because it wasn’t even a real smile.

“Or maybe I really just wanted the privacy.”

Stiles hummed his agreement before narrowing his eyes. “Does that mean you want me to go? I’m not usually subtle at things. I can just leave, you know.”

The guy turned toward the net and Stiles could see the same small grin on his face. He dribbled twice before shooting, and…okay lucky. All net.

“You’re choice. But do you stop to talk to all strangers? Are you the serial killer?”

Stiles face burst into a smile as he chuckled. “Very funny dude. And no I do not. Maybe I just thought it was interesting that you like to shoot hoops _in an alleyway_.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

Stiles watched as the guy walked a bit farther away, turning and shooting at the same time. Again, all net.

“Jeez you’re really good. I take back the ‘you were embarrassed of your skills’ possibility.”

“Doesn’t that only leave serial killer?”

“Damn. You’re right. I guess I’ll – ugh – what the heck?” Stiles barely managed to catch the basketball that was thrown at him. After stumbling a bit (because that must have looked _great_ ), he shoots we-will-marry-if-I-ever-find-out-your-name-back-alleyway-guy a puzzled look. Dude just stared back.

“You make that shot and I won’t kill you.” He shruged, all casual like and with an air of total uncaring. Damn. Why does that look look so good on him?

“Umm pretty sure this is a terrible idea. I don’t remember the last time I shot a basketball.”

Guy just smirked and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture toward the hoop. “How do you know I’ve seen other people play? Maybe I live in this alley? I won’t judge.”

“Unlikely. If this were a gym I may have believed you. But you do not live in an alley.”

“Don’t’ think you can compliment your way out of this. Take the damn shot.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Fine. And you know what, maybe I will make it. If only to spite you.”

Again, his lips quirked upwards in what could have been a smile. Damn. Stiles was going to get one out of him if it was the last thing he did. He was already a bit memorized by those lips.

Stiles turned back to the hoop and concentrated. What was the rule he used to know? Aim for one of the four corners of that box thing? Shit, he really should have paid more attention in gym class. Scott was always the one who was better at basketball.

Well, and every other sport they played. Sigh.

He closed his eyes and dribbled twice. He focused on the corner of the box and threw it. It hit the rim and quickly bounced off.

“Fuck,” Stiles mumbled as the guy was suddenly right where the ball was about to touch the ground, dribbling it and making a perfect lay-up. Stiles was ~~unimpressed~~ extremely turned on.

“Okay. First, rude. You make me feel like a thousand times inferior to you. Second – no way anybody was going to make that shot on the first try.”

“Well then how about I try?”

The guy didn’t wait, merely crowded against Stiles and forced him back. The touch of solid muscle everywhere had Stiles practically hyperventilating. He took the shot, and, again, it was all net.

Before the guy could say anything, Stiles found himself zeroing in on his bulking arms. Particularly, what was written on his bicep. The word was small, probably why Stiles never noticed it before.

“Oh my god. You must be more obsessed than I am! I can’t believe you actually quoted Game of Thrones on your skin.”

The guy followed Stiles eyes down to his arm before tensing and shifting away. He went for another lay up, and Stiles wondered if it was more to make some distance between them.

“It’s not from Game of Thrones. I hate how that guy used the word.”

“That guy?!? You mean George R.R. Martin?!? Only one of the best authors _ever_! I’m pretty sure you must have read or watched it, seeing as Martin made the word.”

“Martin did not make up the word. He borrowed it.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. He had considered himself a die hard fan, how did he not know about this?

“From what language?”

The guy paused and tensed. “A very old one. And it’s not even really a language. Just a phrase that used to be said.”

“Does it still mean mother in your…phrasing?”

“Mhysa is more of a feeling. It’s the love and devotion you feel towards your mother.”

Stiles nodded. He could tell the other guy felt uncomfortable about the topic. He wasn’t sure why, but there was definitely a shift and a tension in the air.

“Thank you for telling me.” Stiles mumbled, looking to the ground. He suddenly whipped out his phone and realized he had been talking to this guy for almost ten minutes.

“I should get going though. Wasn’t exactly planning on stopping in this alleyway, you know? I’m Stiles by the way. Never got around to names, did we?” He laughed nervously, hand coming up to touch the back of his neck.

The guy looked slightly hurt for a second before nodding. “My name’s Derek.”

“Like the player! Is that why you don’t play here? Don’t want people calling you a second rate Derek? Wow, that was extremely rude, too. I’m sorry. I’m stopping now.”

Stiles let a few seconds tick by. Derek raised his perfectly perfect eyebrows in a questioning manner.

“Okay so maybe I’m not done. Maybe you should talk? Okay I’m just going to - ”

“What do you know about Derek Hale?” Derek asked, casually shooting the ball and, again, scoring perfectly. He continued shooting while Stiles talked. Stiles didn’t think he’s missed a shot yet. Man, horrible luck having the same name as Derek Hale and still being good at basketball. Stiles knew he at least hated being overshadowed.

“Truthfully? Not much. Except I only here his name like _all the time_ now. I seriously can’t even go to the study dens without having to hear people blatantly lust over the guy. There were these three girls I passed in the hallway this morning talking about what color he looked best in. Apparently it’s blue. I couldn’t help but gag.”

_Yes. That was the biggest almost smile yet!_

“And you’re annoyed by all of this, why?” Derek’s tone was light and playful. Stiles literally just wanted to whip out his phone and record it.

“I’m sure Hale’s amazing. But seriously, people shouldn’t be so obsessed. It’s not healthy.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous?”

Stiles sighed. “Maybe. I was on the lacrosse team in high school and was always on the bench. There was this one guy, his name was Jackson and he was the star player for a while. Everybody was obsessed with him. But the guy was an absolute douche and treated people like shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if Derek Hale acted the same way. People really just don’t know how much stardom can get to people’s heads. I don’t think you’ve missed a shot yet, by the way.”

Derek turned to him and Stiles eyes widened. There, on Derek’s face, was the first true smile Stiles had seen the man give.

“I think that’s a fair statement. I’m sorry about your Jackson kid, by the way. But not all sports stars share the same egotism.”

Stiles smiled (mostly because you can’t see that smile and not also smile) before nodding his head.

“Well, if I ever meet Derek Hale I’ll be sure to keep an open mind.”

Derek gave a small chuckle before turning back to the hoops. He chose just to hum as a response. Regardless, Stiles couldn’t get his smile to leave his face.

“Well I’ll see you around, Derek.” He started walking away with a small wave. Derek turned back to him, grinning, before questioning, “Are you watching the game on Saturday?”

“I’m getting the feeling that it would be social suicide not to. So yeah, I will be. At least it’s an excuse to go drink, right?”

Stiles watched as Derek’s face momentarily fell before he schooled it back to something semi cheerful.

“Okay. I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it. See you around Stiles.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows before shrugging the comment off. He smiled at Derek before turning away.

“See you Derek!”

Exiting the alleyway, Stiles felt a lot more excited about basketball than when he had entered it. He may already be making excuses in his head to walk through that alleyway again. As much as possible.  


	2. Operation: Get Derek Laid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive response! Feedback is the nutrition to writing :) (Omg I'm so philosophical, I know)

 

 

Derek continued to shoot hoops until he heard Stiles’ footsteps turn the corner of the building and scamper away. He immediately grabbed the ball and sighed, trapping it between his arm and side and started making his way to the back door of his apartment building.

On most days, Derek despised the occasional person who decided to use the alleyway as a shortcut. If he positioned himself so, he could get away with not being noticed. The perks of an alleyway, he supposed, were that people don’t generally stop to have conversations or openly stare at others in said alleyway. This was good. This worked for Derek.

It’s not that Derek’s unsocial. Okay, it is. But he wasn’t always! Fame can be surprisingly overrated, and can quickly drain away almost all chances of making normal friends. When people come up to him, it was because he was Derek Hale. Derek Hale the name, the basketball star, and the – God, what did the college’s newspaper just call him – oh yeah, Derek Hale the _Adonis_. Very few people actually know Derek Hale the person. On most days, he was fine with the solid friend group he had. On some days, he truly hated his fans.

To say that Derek wasn’t perplexed would be an understatement. He fumbled with his keys as he unlocked the back door, slipping inside unnoticed and hurrying to the elevator. It had been a long, long time since he had had such an easygoing time with a new person. Stiles had been… interesting. He had been a completely surprising part of his day and something he definitely did not see coming.

He had been a spaz. Completely and utterly _horrible_ at basketball, and a person that generally couldn’t keep his mouth shut. But, for the life of him, Derek couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seemed to mind. Usually he just wanted a person to shut up. With Stiles, he thought the incessant rambling was actually comical. 

But damn, that boy must have lived under a rock. Derek isn’t conceded or self-obsessed, but he knows he’s known nationwide. And since he’s known nationwide, he’s certainly known across the entire campus. Even though his popularity is the bane of his existence, he’s come to terms with his fate and has accepted it.

Regardless, Derek thinks as he unlocks the door to his apartment, it was extremely nice talking to someone who didn’t want his autograph. And especially nicer than a person who promptly runs away on the phone screaming that they just met Derek Hale. He’ll never understand why they think he can’t hear them.

Ugh. His life.

Derek was greeted by the smell of pizza as he made his way outside. He grinned at the oven rack; not even having to look over to see Erika sprawled on their couch. If the apartment actually smelt nice, she was there.

“Pizza. Nice.” He murmured. He set his basketball down and toed out of his sneakers, grabbing a slice as he leaned against the counter. He looked over at Erika, curled in Boyd’s lap, and rolled his eyes.

“There’s a perfectly good seat next to Boyd, Erika.” He stated flatly.

She hummed before turning to look at him. Oh God, he hated that look.

“Yes but I like my seats to poke me when I sit on them.” Derek groaned. “How was brooding time?”

“For the last time I’m not brooding, Erika.”

“You set up a peace of shit Hoop in the middle of a back alleyway. To avoid people. While you reflect on your life. How is this not brooding?”

Derek scoffed. “I don’t reflect on life. And it’s pretty annoying when you can’t concentrate on shooting hoops when you can constantly feel people eye-fucking you and interrupting.”

“Don’t pretend like you need the practice, Derek. Even if you did, you get enough of it with the team.”

“I enjoy shooting hoops, Erika.”

“I know you do, I just wish you’d enjoy socializing too.”

“I’m talking with you, aren’t I?”

“Ugh, you know what I meant Derek. You talk with you’re roommates and teammates - Boyd and Isaac, and you talk with me because I’m dating one of them. You got to get out there!”

“I talk to you all because you are my friends.”

Erika rolls her eyes and throws her head back.

“That’s not what I was implying and you know that. God you’re 23 but way to angsty.”

Derek, seriously confused as to how he could be angsty, furrowed his eyebrows. “Well...anyway, thanks for the pizza. I’m going to shower and study in my room for the night.”

He was just about at the door to the bathroom when Boyd spoke up. “You know she has a point, Derek. You could have literally anybody you wanted.”

Derek was just about to say something when Isaac popped his head out of his room with a frown.

“Oh my God are we having the Get Derek Laid In Order To Decrease the Amount of Times We Have To Look at that Frown conversation? You guys were supposed to wait for me!”

“I do not frown all the time!”

“Not around us, no. But whenever you are in public you do.”

Derek grunted, settling his arm on the frame of the door and shook his head. How he got into these situations he didn’t know.

“See! Look at that arm! It’s bulging. Literally Derek, just walk up to somebody, flex, and then fuck the shit out of them.”

Erika, for being so sweet and caring, can sometimes have the dirtiest mouth Derek’s ever experienced. That includes the basketball teams changing room.

“Look,” he sighed. “You guys know my history. And what I am. It’s…just not going to happen.”

“Derek,” Isaac began, before Erika could start again. “It was _one_ crazy relationship. And yes I’m sorry that she attempted to kill your family and I’m also sorry that your mom ended up having to kill her, but come _on_. The rest of the world is not like Kate.”

Derek grunted. “And my second concern?”

“Whatever, you can still have flings with people! You don’t have to tell them you’re a werewolf to have sex with them. Just fucking stick it in already.”

Erika again.

“I’m seriously done with this conversation.”

* * *

 

It was nine o’clock. Derek had long given up on the idea that Stiles would come around today. He had been out shooting hoops the past two nights, all the while hoping Stiles would show up and bring his sarcastic attitude along.

Really, he should have known better. He would have been mad at the kid for showing up here even if he had. It was pitch black outside, and the shady ass light from the post did nothing to illuminate the alley.

Plus, this really wasn’t the best part of campus. Case and point, the footsteps and murmurs he heard coming from down the street.

He paused. He rotated the ball in his hands a bit before biting down on his lip. They were definitely making their way down his alley. He cast a glance over his shoulder and yep, his werewolf vision allowed him to see three guys heading towards him.

But really, why do they always need to wear black, baggy sweatshirts?

“You’re out here pretty late to be by yourself?” The first one snickered, looking Derek up and down.

“Mark,” the one to his right murmured, “look at him. You seriously want to take him on?”

Mark, who was holding a crowbar ( _seriously?!?_ ) _,_ grinned maliciously. “Three to one put the odds in our favor. How much money are you carrying?”

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed. At least he had been feeling fairly confrontational lately. Might as well blow off some steam.

“I’m going to give you one chance to turn around and run away. Just one.”

The guy to the right of Mark burst out laughing. “Cocky son of a bitch isn’t he? No no, pretty boy. We’re not leaving.”

Derek nodded. “I figured.”

His arms moved like lighting. One second he was holding the basketball in front of him, the next he propelled it right into the guys face, knocking him out cold and sending him to the ground.

The other two watched with shock as their friend hit the ground, and as Mark whipped his face back to advance on Derek, he was met with a fist.

His body joined the other on the ground. The third one made it about three steps before Derek grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him against the side of the wall.

Derek frowned as he surveyed the scene. “That wasn’t very exciting.”

He grabbed his basketball and called 911. Derek could smell the cocaine on at least two of them, so he was pretty sure they would be spending some time in the slammer.

He was just about to unlock the back alleyway door to his apartment when his phone chirped.

**Erika just dead-bolted the door and said that if you don’t come back with ice cream you’re not coming in. Srry. I’ll pay you back.** – Boyd

Derek growled.

**Is this so you guys can have time to fuck?** – Derek

**Yeah but she still wants the ice cream** – Boyd

**Is this also part of her plan to get me ‘socialized’** – Derek

**Three birds with one stone? You got to admit she’s impressive. Goodbye** – Boyd

Derek rolled his eyes. He zipped up his hoodie and threw on the hood. If he had to make the walk to the campus convenience store than he was going to do it discreetly.

Fuck Erika and her plan.

He chose the one that was a part of the dinning hall that closed at ten. He checked his watch. 9:45. If he was lucky, nobody would be around.

He slipped in and headed for the freezers. God damnit, he had no idea what kind Erika wanted. Instead of asking, and maybe just so he could spite them both, he chose all of them. Boyd will pay him back, and so sorry for him if he can’t eat them all.

But, let’s be real, werewolves. Between Boyd, Isaac, and himself, these seven tubs probably won’t last long.

Carrying them was awkward. He was so preoccupied with keeping them balanced that he didn’t notice the employee working the cash register. That, and maybe he was avoiding their eyes. He didn’t want to deal with fans today.

“Derek!” He heard a voice claim. He gave a little sigh, mentally prepared himself, and glanced upwards.

Holy shit. Stiles was behind the counter. Giving him a brilliant smile.

“Stiles?”

“Well if it isn’t back-alley baller our in the open! With…seven tubs of ice cream? Is that blood on your shirt?”

Derek internally groaned and glanced down. Sure enough, a good splatter of blood had found its way stained onto the middle of his shirt.

Stiles eyes narrowed. “Whose blood is that?”

He cringed. “My own?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Why is your chest bleeding?”

“My chest isn’t bleeding.”

“Umm…” Stiles jerked his head. His eyes widened as he saw the blood on Derek’s knuckles, and then snapped to the tubs of ice cream.

“Are you buying ice cream as an apology because you just abused your girlfriend!”

Derek groaned. He had to mentally stop himself from face palming. “No. And I’m not dignifying that with any kind of response. Here’s a fifty.”

Stiles chuckled and took the money, a grin never leaving his face. “I’m just saying, this whole thing is very fishy. You come in here ten minutes before close and buy every single kind of ice cream flavor. Why every kind? _Will need to be examined later._ Also, you come wearing somebody’s blood on your shirt and your knuckles. Whose blood is it? How did you get it on you? _Will also need to be examined later_. And finally, you come to this store, where I work, just days after meeting me. Why? Are you hiding a knife? Are you hiding a gun? Did I annoy you that much back in the alley? _Evidence will need to be examined at a later date_.”

…

“Earth to Derek! Here’s your money.”

Derek snapped back to reality, looking down at the money Stiles was holding out. When he looked back up, Stiles was giving him a confused look.

“Did you just zone out on me?”

“Did you just say everything I think you said?”

“Why did you buy every single kind of ice cream flavor?”

“Do you always treat your costumers like this?”

“And why are you still here?”

“You think I have a gun?”

“ _Do_ you have a gun?”

Derek threw his hands up and groaned.

“No I do not have a gun, Stiles. Thank you for being such an… _eccentric_ worker.”

Stiles smile was large and genuine. “Thank you. I try my hardest. Therefore, you should not rob me with that gun you have.”

Derek had to stop himself from smiling, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to counter when he paused.

“What are you listening to?” He asked.

Stiles eyebrows furrowed slightly before his smile faltered and his eyes grew big.

“The radio!”

Ha. You can’t lie to a werewolf.

“Lies. They’ve been playing this whole time, haven’t they?”

Stiles looked flustered.

“Aaaaannd do you have something against 1D?”

“No,” he said as he reached across the counter. Stiles took a surprised step back and raised his eyebrows. Derek grabbed a plastic bag (which Stiles had neglected to give him) and began shoving his ice cream inside of it. “It’s just humorous, that’s all.”

“You can’t just lean across the counter. And – hey! You can’t leave until I know your feelings on 1D!”

“See you around Stiles,” Derek called from over his shoulder. He quickly walked out of the convenience store and made a sharp right. Not even a minute passed before he could hear what sounded like a couple making their way in.

_Fuck_ , Derek cursed himself. He knew he had to get out of there as soon as he heard the pair of heartbeats closing in on the store. Had they seen him, they would have for sure identified him, and ruined his anonymity with Stiles.

For some reason, it was to damn nice to have somebody that _didn’t_ know him.

_Pull yourself together Derek. The next game is in two days. He’ll know who you are then._

_God though, that was such an awkward exit. Talking about One Direction? Really?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are over so hopefully i can continue this story! Oh, and I'll be posting a one-shot where Stiles gets blinded (temporally, those damn fairies) and Derek has to watch over him. Please comment with your thoughts and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Should i continue? Thoughts? How long should Stiles go before finding out Derek is Derek? Thanks for reading : )


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